


Trivial Pursuits

by shutupeccles



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Break Up, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-06
Updated: 2011-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-04 10:02:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupeccles/pseuds/shutupeccles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin and Arthur aren't precisely off the market when they hook up. So, what happens next? Adele says it best – “sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trivial Pursuits

Once again, Percival asked Arthur why he wasn’t coming to the Christmas party this year. He always got along with Percival’s colleagues, although his best mate Gwaine sometimes rubbed Arthur the wrong way. They’d been living together for the past two months of their five years as a couple, and Arthur never missed a social event before. Percival tried convincing him to come along.  
   
“Gwaine will be too busy impressing his latest.”  
   
“Gwaine’s got a new boyfriend?” Arthur’s enthusiasm for the Christmas party increased.  
   
“Not entirely new. Remember his friend Merlin? They resolved that UST after the Labour Day barbecue, so he’ll definitely be there.”  
   
Arthur’s interest plummeted to a new low. “No thanks.”  
   
“I know Gwaine cheeses you off, but I thought you were starting to get along with Merlin better than any of my other friends.”  
   
Therein lay the problem. Arthur and Merlin got along so splendidly at the Labour Day barbecue that they’d begun flirting with definite intent to have some serious sex. Gwaine noticed something before any minor physical contact occurred, and thought it a great time to re-introduce Merlin and Percival while subtly mentioning that Percival had asked Arthur to move in with him the day before. Arthur hadn’t given an answer yet. Gwaine relentlessly crapped on about their relationship history: mutual lust at first sight; Percival was seventeen and Arthur twenty-two when they met; Arthur did the noble thing and waited until Percival was eighteen to ask him out; they’d bought each other identical anniversary gifts more than once – Gwaine made it sound like they’d been married for twenty-five years.  
   
Sometimes it felt like it, but never in a good way.  
   
Arthur still loved Percival, just not the way he used to. He thought it was mutual until Percival suggested cohabitation. Arthur found it impossible to say no after Gwaine’s interference. Thank Christ Percival hadn’t proposed. Saying no regarding this Christmas party was difficult enough.  
 

*~~~*

   
Gwaine would rather Merlin didn’t come to the work Christmas do.  
   
“You invited me to everything when we were occasionally beneficial friends. Now we’re exclusive I’m not allowed to come with you? Are you cheating on me with someone from work?” Merlin’s eyes widened as he turned that question around. “Are you cheating _on_ someone with me?”  
   
“No, and I don’t want my best mate’s arsehole cheating with you either.”  
   
“I don’t like Percival _that_ much.”  
   
“I mean Arthur bloody Pendragon. You would have been having him against a tree if I hadn’t sent him on that guilt trip. You’re not tagging along to pick up where you left off.”  
   
“If you’re that worried about it, you should have let Percival find out Arthur’s a sleaze in the first place. Need I remind you that if Lancelot hadn’t warned me off Edwin it would have been me trapped in that house fire last year, instead of some other poor bloke.”  
   
The only chink in Merlin’s logic was that Arthur wasn’t a sleaze. Five years ago, after sneaking alcoholic drinks to Percival in the family area of his favourite pub, Gwaine convinced Percival to challenge Arthur to a game of pool so Gwaine could hit on him. Gwaine knew he didn’t stand a chance within three minutes. The age difference may have stopped Arthur taking Percival home that night, but not from asking if he’d be back next week, and the week after, and so on until they exchanged numbers. Still nothing physical occurred. Every week at least one shmuck would advance on Arthur only to be told “I’m unavailable for the foreseeable future.” For Percival’s eighteenth, Arthur flew him to Vienna and bonked his brains out from Good Friday to Easter Monday. Percival wore an expression of perpetual astonishment for thirteen days. Gwaine had been too ecstatic for him to ever be jealous.  
   
At the other end of the relationship spectrum, Gwaine had been trying to become more than beneficial friends with Merlin since they met. Merlin always came to Gwaine when Edwin acted oddly, yet any advice to get out was interpreted as jealousy because Gwaine was the only singleton in his circle. They exchanged benefits a few times since, with Merlin insisting he wasn’t quite ready for full-time deep and meaningful. Gwaine planned to change that at the Labour Day barbecue. Anyone around Arthur and Percival envied their relationship.  
   
But the power couple weren’t their usual dazzling selves. Percival spent most of the day socialising with colleagues or asking Gwaine if he should have proposed to Arthur like he intended. Moving in together felt like a cop-out. Perhaps he was disappointed and that’s why he hadn’t given Percival an answer yet. He never doubted Arthur’s fidelity, his eye never wandered before Labour Day. Then he exchanged more than a dozen words with Merlin and became the energetic, jovial, flirt Percival first fell in love with. Merlin’s reaction gave Gwaine a second reason to nail Arthur’s balls to a tree.  
   
“By all means Merlin, come along tonight. Fuck him and be done with it.”  
   
Merlin bit back sharply. “No thanks. But don’t think I’m letting your jealous streak keep me home tonight.” Merlin let Edwin and Will control him like that, thinking the possessive behaviour would stop but it only made things worse. He wasn’t making that mistake a third time.  
   
Gwaine apologised for being a jerk. “It took me too long to show I love you as more than a FILF, Merlin.”  
   
“Me too, Gwaine.” They’d been pretty ridiculous about it.  
   
“If I acted sooner…”  
   
Merlin interrupted Gwaine by kissing him goodbye for the night and sending him to the Christmas party. The truth was it wouldn’t have mattered if they’d been a couple before the barbecue. Arthur completely blew Merlin’s mind. He only withdrew from the field of battle because Percival was three times his size, in all directions.  
 

*~~~*

   
Arthur hated charity trivia nights but it was better than sitting at home. Or being at that Christmas party and hoping Merlin would fuck him on the photocopier.  
   
He rubbed both hands over his face to erase that particular image. Why couldn’t Gwaine and Percival hook up, and leave him alone?  
   
The line into the pub’s function room moved forward. “Random table, I’m not here with anyone,” a familiar voice said to the people selling tickets.  
   
“Merlin?” Arthur asked loud enough to be heard without being impolite.  
   
Merlin turned and a commitment-killing smile spread across his face. “Actually, I’m with him,” he told the ticket seller.  
   
The people queuing between them reluctantly let Arthur join Merlin at the front of the line. Merlin watched his progress and thought of all the debauched things they’d mentioned doing to each other before Gwaine sent the Percival-proportioned wrecking ball through their conversation. “Destiny and trivia,” he declared in a low, satisfied voice.  
   
Arthur held Merlin’s hip so they wouldn’t get separated wending their way to their allocated table. Merlin didn’t object. They donated more money through fines than it cost to get in, but the children’s intensive care unit was a worthy cause and they laughed more than they lost. Arthur made a complete dick of himself in a physical challenge that required him to put on a Santa suit so everyone else on their table could stuff the baggy trousers with spiky presents.  
   
Merlin’s mobile rang, and he snapped “Piss off you possessive shithead. I’m busy having fun without you” into the phone before the woman who owned it snatched it back and explained to her husband that she really was out with the girls, and had no idea who that dickhead was. Merlin checked his pocket. His identical phone was still there. “Help me change the pre-set ringtones so this never happens again,” he begged. Looking at the phone made Arthur laugh, so Merlin had to figure it out himself.  
   
“Buy you a drink?” Arthur offered once the final scores were tallied – their table came last.  
   
“Are you sure this won’t lead to something else?” Merlin asked.  
   
“No.”  
   
“Make it two.”  
   
An hour later they walked to Merlin’s because they were too pissed to drive and too broke to split cab fare. They pashed and felt each other up against his door, stripped and sucked each other hard on his couch, did it on the floor, slept in his bed, fucked again in the kitchen while breakfast burned, then had if off once more in the shower sometime in the afternoon. What Merlin lacked in size compared to Percival he more than made up for in agility. Arthur was more fun and satisfying than Gwaine. Between rounds of daylight sex they watched telly, played snap with Merlin’s promotional coaster collection, and exchanged personal anecdotes.  
   
Arthur didn’t want to go home. Merlin didn’t want him to.  
   
Then a phone rang.  
   
“You better answer that,” Merlin said.  
   
“Not my phone.”  
   
“What? That’s right, poop.”  
   
Arthur curled over and around Merlin on the couch, feeling him up while murmuring things like “hello Gwaine, guess who Merlin’s been doing,” and “tell him you’re not alone.”  
   
Merlin made several vain attempts to push Arthur away and shut him up while conversing with Gwaine. “Ah-hm… Didn’t he? Did they have a fight? …We did, remember, because you didn’t want me to… Yes, I did go out… Magnificent time, thank you… Trivia night… For God’s Sake Arthur!” Merlin didn’t press mute hard enough, or quickly enough. Gwaine disconnected the call.  
   
“What’d he say?” Arthur asked in the manner of ‘Come to bed.’  
   
“Nothing. He hung up, probably to call Percival.”  
   
That got Arthur off him as guilt swept in. He leapt up and patted every pocket for his mobile. “Crap! Crappity crap-crap! Call this number.”  
   
“I’m not phoning him.”  
   
“It’s my number, so I can find my phone.”  
   
Merlin tried but it continually rang out to voicemail. It must be in Arthur’s car, a block from the pub hosting the trivia night.  
   
“My stuff’ll be out the window and on the footpath by the time I walk to the pub. Spot me a cab?”  
   
“Why should I?” Merlin also had a mess to sort out. Arthur could deal with his own, on his own.  
   
“I’ve got the grand sum of 5p in my wallet after those top-shelf cocktails you ordered. We both did the dirty here, not just me!”  
   
“Hey, Gwaine and are just-” Merlin couldn’t finish. He didn’t know what they were, before or now.  
 

*~~~*

   
Gwaine imagined the only phone call worse than this one would be ‘hello X, cherished family member Y is dead’ but Percival needed to be told. “Found Arthur,” he said flatly.  
   
“Brilliant. How? Is he alright?”  
   
Gwaine inhaled. “He’s at Merlin’s.”  
   
“…”  
   
Gwaine heard Percival trying to gain enough breath to voice reluctant words, and filled the silence for him. “I’m sorry. They can’t have hooked up deliberately. You said you both expected Merlin to come with me to last night’s do. We both expected Arthur to come with you.” Gwaine glossed over his fight with Merlin and his angry speech about fucking Percival’s partner. “Besides, they only know each other through us.”  
   
“He spent the night with your boyfriend? And he’s still there?”  
   
Gwaine had no comfort to give. Damn Arthur to hell and back. There was no way Gwaine was letting him get away with treating Percival like this. “It sounded like I interrupted something by calling.”  
   
“… What did Merlin say about it?”  
   
“I didn’t stay on the line to find out. I thought it best to call you before they came up with a lie.”  
   
“So, it could be a misunderstanding?” Percival suggested hopefully.  
   
“Odds are slimmer than Merlin.” Wrong thing to say, Merlin and Percival were physical opposites. Not that Percival was fat, but almost seven foot of muscle must be intimidating at times, even for an athletic build like Arthur’s. “I’ve jumped to wrong conclusions before. I better call him back, sort this out.”  
   
“You should have done that **before** calling me.”  
   
Percival was right. Gwaine should have gone to Merlin’s, kicked Arthur’s gorgeous face in, and **then** called Percival.  
 

*~~~*

   
Merlin sat as close to the cab door as possible. There was no way Arthur could bridge the physical and symbolic gaps without obvious effort.  
   
“The longer it takes to get to our fellas, the worse this looks,” Merlin muttered impatiently.  
   
“We’re not seeing each other again?” Arthur asked in blatant disbelief, last night and today had been perfect until Nanny-Gwaine called.  
   
“No way.” Merlin shook his head without turning Arthur’s way.  
   
“I didn’t jeopardise a five year relationship for a one-night stand, Merlin.”  
   
“We hadn’t spoken two dozen words to each other before Gwaine’s work barbecue.”  
   
“You’re only with Gwaine because he made it sound like I was married.”  
   
“You only moved in with Percival because Gwaine interfered.”  
   
“I know, and I shouldn’t have.”  
   
Merlin finally turned to look at Arthur, but Arthur was staring out the opposite window with a hand shielding his eyes.  
   
The cab pulled up.  
 

*~~~*

   
Percival threw his phone against the wall – and bits of it went **through** the wall. He walked through the third story flat with both hands on his head. He should have seen this coming. Arthur taking so long to agree to move in, the steady decline of everything that made them great, still not answering his phone after being caught out, Gwaine’s reluctance to bring Merlin to social events since Labour Day. Percival wasn’t thick. He’d seen Arthur and Merlin getting friendly at the barbecue. He simply attributed the return of the Arthur who courted him to the prospect of upping their commitment, rather than an interest in Merlin.  
   
They’d been in love since Percival was seventeen. What was he supposed to do now?  
 

*~~~*

   
 _I’ve done something dreadful. Perhaps we should talk about it._  
   
Arthur left the same message via voicemail and then text. He didn’t add ‘sorry’ because Percival might not understand what he was sorry for. His only regret about spending the night with Merlin was that it wouldn’t be happening again. ‘Sorry’ belonged to the mistake he made two months ago.  
   
The footpath wasn’t littered with his belongings, so he went upstairs and knocked on the door to Percival’s flat. Using his key felt presumptuous. He lost the right to live here when he deliberately sought another man’s attention. Knocking said everything, really.  
   
Percival let him in and waited to see if Arthur would close the door behind him before speaking. “Is this some mid-life crisis thing because you’re nearly thirty? Or are we done?” Percival felt it prudent to clarify which option he hoped it was before Arthur could answer. “If it’s the first, then I don’t care. I never saw the difference in our ages as an issue. I still don’t. We can get past this.”  
   
“No, we can’t.” Arthur’s voice was raw, yet determined.  
   
“So what happened isn’t about Merlin being older than me?”  
   
Arthur shook his head as he replied no. He thought it best to answer Percival’s questions honestly rather than to try and explain off the cuff. Percival was the wronged party. His distress was the priority.  
   
“How many—has this happened before?” _How gullible have I been?_  
   
“Never,” Arthur assured him. “Not with Merlin, not with anyone else.”  
   
“Will it happen again?”  
   
“No. But that’s his decision, not mine.”  
   
“So you’d rather be with him.”  
   
“Yes,” Arthur admitted sadly.  
   
“Does he know that?”  
   
“It doesn’t matter.” Arthur knew it was stupid, selfish, and cruel, but Merlin’s rejection hurt more than breaking up with Percival. “He said it was a mistake. He doesn’t to want to see me again.”  
   
“Good,” Percival said bluntly. “Get out.”  
   
Arthur nodded as he took the flat key from his chain and put it on the dresser. “Can I pack a bag for now then collect the rest of my things when it’s convenient for you?”  
   
“Fine, just don’t call our company to remove your stuff.” Percival retreated to the kitchenette, keeping busy with unimportant, routine behaviours while life as he knew it ended.  
   
Arthur tried pacing his packing so Percival wouldn’t think he couldn’t wait to get away from him, but without dragging this out. He wondered what to do with the Christmas gift he’d already bought and wrapped. Should he leave it as a thank you for the years of love they’d shared, or would its presence only make things worse for Percival? He sat on the floor at the foot of the bed they’d spent so many nights in and balanced the gift on his knees, staring at it, silently seeking its advice.  
   
Percival came to the door with a large mug of tea dwarfed by his unstable hands. “I don’t want it, if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t want you here at all, knowing you didn’t want to be here in the first place, even before – him.”  
   
“I should have told you I had doubts instead of making you wait. But when Gwaine recited out history, and your eyes, I thought maybe we could get back to where we began. If we could, then it was worth a try.”  
   
“But,” Percival said in accusation. Arthur looked him in the eye. Percival saw the earnest, passionate man he loved – and hated him.  
   
“But,” Arthur agreed with a nod. “Someone else forced his way into my thoughts and refused to leave. Even now,” he admitted pitifully because he truly was pathetic. “No-one will be available until after the New Year, removalists.”  
   
Percival knew. More breakups and transfers occurred over the holidays than any other time of year, and the company he worked for was always booked out. “I don’t care. I don’t care where you go, or what happens to you. I invited you into my heart, my life, and my home and you didn’t care enough to break up with me before inviting someone else into your arse. You can fall asleep in a snowdrift and get crushed by a snowplough, and I won’t care.”  
   
Arthur tossed the genuinely heartfelt gift into the bedside bin as he got to his feet. He wasn’t entitled to argue or weep as he hoisted the carry bag over one shoulder. “I’m sorry, Percival,” he said on the way out, because now he was.  
 

*~~~*

   
Merlin and Gwaine sat either end of Gwaine’s couch without speaking or looking at each other. Merlin’s hands were pressed between his knees. Gwaine loosened some threads in the armrest’s upholstery and picked at them.  
   
“Was it worth it?” he asked eventually.  
   
Merlin shook his head. “No.”  
   
“When did you think _Oh, I’ve made a mistake?”_  
   
“When Arthur said he was willing to risk his relationship with Percival over it, and I realised I’m not.”  
   
“Do you want to invoke the Spirit of Christmas and forgive and forget?”  
   
“Yes, please.”  
   
Gwaine’s hand crept across the couch to touch Merlin’s. Merlin clutched it. Gwaine moved closer and lifted his arm so Merlin could lean against him.  
   
“I’m sorry Gwaine.”  
   
“Me too.”  
   
“I love you.”  
   
“Me too.” Gwaine kissed him to prove it.  
   
Later that night, they were making up in the bedroom and Merlin’s phone rang. He turned to look at it. So did Gwaine.  
   
“Answer that and it’s over between us – friendship, everything.”  
   
Merlin turned the phone to silent with his big toe. Gwaine was satisfied.  
  

  
{Christmas Party for the Bare-Chested Removal Company, three years later}   


   
“Leon, this is Gwaine’s husband, Merlin.” Percival introduced them while Gwaine took Merlin’s coat and ordered their drinks. There was the traditional shaking of hands and exchange of verbal platitudes.  
   
“How’d you meet?” Merlin asked.  
   
Percival had been avoiding this question from Gwaine since he discovered Percival was seeing someone new. Leon didn’t know the role Merlin played in Percival’s breakup. “My ex accidentally hooked us up. We were both on the rebound, and knew it, so it was no surprise my transfer meant the end. ‘That place is associated with someone in my past my heart won’t let me forget.’ Then he suggested calling the sexy-Gay moving men. Your husband arrived with Percival and token straight-boy Lancelot to carry my stuff away. Who knew moving across country could be so enjoyable?” Leon and Percival shared a meaningful glance teamed with suggestive smiles. “I tried calling Arthur to thank him for bringing us together, but he must’ve changed his number.”  
   
Gwaine analysed Percival’s expression. Whatever he felt for Leon had nothing to do with Arthur. He was finally over what happened between his ex and Merlin. Gwaine congratulated them both.  
 

*~~~*

   
Merlin excused himself a short while later and locked himself in a men’s room cubicle. He scrolled through menus on his phone until he came to the only logged missed call he never deleted. He knew the associated voicemail off by heart and erased that years ago.  
   
 _Your number’s in my missed calls. This is my only chance to change your mind about never seeing me again. I think I love you Merlin and thought that in time you might come to love me. I wouldn’t betray the man I’ve loved for five years for anything less._  
   
Merlin tried returning that call but Arthur never answered. He never replied to texts or voicemails, not even the one where Merlin stopped avoiding the issue and simply said “I think I love you too.”  
   
His thumb hovered over the call button. Once more, just to be sure. Like all previous attempts, the call could not be connected. Merlin finally pressed delete.  
 

  
{in an apartment 87 minutes from the Christmas party}   


   
Arthur sat on the kitchen island, ankles crossed and knees angled up as he stared at the highlighted number. He last called it three years ago, today.  
   
 _Sorry, don’t accept calls from unknowns_  
   
Arthur had texted back: _fell asleep in snowdrift, crushed by snowplough_  
   
Percival called back and arranged for a neighbour to let Arthur in to collect his stuff, which had been boxed up as soon as Arthur left. He deliberately got there an hour early so they could talk. They stood either side of the closed door, but that didn’t stop Arthur.  
   
“It isn’t actually Merlin I’d rather be with, but the version of us he reminded me of. Our first three years together were like Labour Day, and the night and day where I destroyed everything. That’s what I was after, what we were. I needed that back. He made me feel that way in such a short time, I became confused because restoring whatever was fading between us seemed impossible in comparison to starting again with him.”  
   
Percival opened the door, but didn’t let Arthur in. “You wouldn’t say that if he returned your call. You sister told me. She overheard.”  
   
“New SIM,” Arthur held up his phone and opened the contacts. “The only numbers I kept are yours and Morgana’s. Besides that, I blocked his number before he **could** return the call. Saying that to him, I realised you were the only man I’ve loved for the past five years. You still are. I’m a pathetic dickhead for doing that to you.” Silence. Percival searched Arthur’s eyes for non-existent lies. “If I’d talked to you about what was going on in my head when you first asked me to move in I would have seen what was happening with Merlin on Labour Day for what it was, a desperate grab at a chance to relive the best moments of my life with you. He and I both made a mistake. It never should have happened. It never would have if I’d understood. Maybe you’re right, and it was partly a mid-life crisis thing.”  
   
Silence again. Then Percival leaned through it to forgive Arthur with a kiss. As soon as their lips touched he pulled back and held Arthur away by pushing his shoulders. Percival’s voice throbbed with a dull pain. “No. You went home with someone else. It doesn’t matter who. After what you did, you stayed there until you were found out, told me you’d rather be with him than me, you called **him** from your sister’s. How am I supposed to forget that? How am I supposed to look at you and **not** imagine someone else fucking you? I can’t. Get your things and go. Delete my number like all the others Arthur. Never contact me again.”  
   
More than a hundred times Arthur’s finger hovered over the necessary command. Even knowing Percival had moved on with Leon—they'd come round in person to tell him, both knowing he compulsively changed his number immediately after breakups—he couldn’t do it.There was no point. Contacts were easily deleted, love wasn’t.  
   



End file.
